


I’ll See You Later

by OneLetterName



Category: Disgaea (Games), Disgaea 4: A Promise Unforgotten
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:13:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5029714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneLetterName/pseuds/OneLetterName
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story told through the eyes of one of Fuka's friends. The both of them are worried about her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’ll See You Later

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by one of Harada's promotional works for Disgaea.

The air is cool and the sun is bright. It’s the definition of a perfect day. Perfect, partly because today is the day you convinced Fuka to visit her dad. Even if he’s too busy working to go home, there’s nothing stopping her from visiting him at work.

It’s frustrating, honestly, how strained their relationship is. All they need is better communication.

“Later, Fuka!”

You give Fuka a quick wave goodbye before you part ways. Mr. Kazamatsuri’s office isn’t too far from Saint Golyat, so you won’t be walking home together today. It’s fine, though. You have another friend with you, and she’s good company even if Fuka’s loud mouth isn’t there to balance out her silence. Besides, the three of you walk home every day anyway.

There’s no a looming sense of dread or a passing of ominous crows as the two of you continue home, farther and farther away from where you left Fuka at the crosswalk, just the sound of leaves rustling in the spring breeze. It’s just another Tuesday afternoon.

\- - -

Fuka’s absent today, and you can’t help but worry.

She’s never been a model student, but at the very least she always tells you when she’s about to skip class. Fuka hasn’t called or texted since yesterday, either, and that can only mean she’s sick at home. Hopefully, she doesn’t have a fever.

Your friend gives you a reassuring nudge with her shoulder. Her arms are too occupied carrying the books Fuka needs to make up for the schoolwork she missed to give that playful shove she’s so fond of. For a moment, you’re torn about whether you should offer to help carry the books, but a shake of her head tells you she doesn’t need any help.

\- - -

No one answers the door.

“Did she pick up?”

“This is the third time we called.”

The two of you wait half an hour before leaving Fuka’s things in front of her door with a note attached. Your parents would worry if the two of you took any longer to get home.

\- - -

The two of you come again the next day to drop off her homework. You’re carrying the books this time, but the load is lighter.

When you arrive, the books from yesterday are still outside, untouched.

\- - -

It’s been three days since anyone’s seen Fuka at all, and classroom 3-B has never felt emptier.

You try to tell yourself that you’re being paranoid, but something must have happened to Fuka. There is no other explanation. Her phone went straight to voicemail last time you tried calling her.

\- - -

After a weekend of worry, it’s finally Monday, and the first thing that greets you as you walk into the classroom is the sweet scent of flowers. It’s hard to breathe for a moment, and there isn’t anything to say, because your best friend is sobbing in front of Fuka’s desk.

All your other classmates crowding the desk could have been invisible for all you care. She hasn’t sobbed like this since the first grade—and the thought reminds you of how you all first met—but now isn’t the time for that, because she is sobbing in front of Fuka’s desk.

“What happened?”

It’s the only thing you manage to say, even though you already know the answer. The source of the flowery scent is right in front of you, right on top of the desk, and it’s enough of an answer.

But you need to hear it. You need to hear what happened to Fuka from your best friend.

She tells you what happened with difficulty, and you probably should have waited some before demanding to know what happened because you could hardly understand her through her tears.

There was an accident at her father’s workplace, a freak accident that no one could have prevented, she said.

But you know that’s not true because you were the one that told Fuka to visit her father. You could have prevented it, and it’s your fault that Fuka’s gone. Your friend was there when you convinced Fuka to walk to her father’s office. Did she blame you, too?

Your glasses are beginning to fog over now, and before you even try to wipe away your tears your friend pulls you into a tight hug. Everything hurts, and you know it’s not going to get better. Not for a long time.


End file.
